Thus unfolded the 'Night of Terror' on Nov. 15, 1917, when the warden at the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there because they dared to picket Woodrow Wilson's White House for the right to vote.

For weeks, the women's only water came from an open pail. Their food--all of it colorless slop--was infested with worms.

(Alice Paul)

When one of the leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike, they tied her to a chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was smuggled out to the press.

We have carpool duties? We have to get to work? Our vote doesn't matter? It's raining?

Last week, I went to a sparsely attended screening of HBO's new movie 'Iron Jawed Angels.' It is a graphic depiction of the battle these women waged so that I could pull the curtain at the polling booth and have my say. I am ashamed to say I needed the reminder.

All these years later, voter registration is still my passion. But the actual act of voting had become less personal for me, more rote. Frankly, voting often felt more like an obligation than a privilege. Sometimes it was inconvenient.

My friend Wendy, who is my age and studied women's history, saw the HBO movie, too. When she stopped by my desk to talk about it, she looked angry. She was--with herself. 'One thought kept coming back to me as I watched that movie,' she said. 'What would those women think of the way I use, or don't use,my right to vote? All of us take it for granted now, not just younger women, but those of us who did seek to learn.' The right to vote, she said, had become valuable to her 'all over again.'

HBO released the movie on video and DVD . I wish all history, social studies and government teachers would include the movie in their curriculum I want it shown on Bunco night, too, and anywhere else women gather. I realize this isn't our usual idea of socializing, but we are not voting in the numbers that we should be, and I think a little shock therapy is in order.

It is jarring to watch Woodrow Wilson and his cronies try to persuade a psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be permanently institutionalized. And it is inspiring to watch the doctor refuse. Alice Paul was strong, he said, and brave. That didn't make her crazy.

The doctor admonished the men: 'Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.'Please, if you are so inclined, pass this on to all the women you know.

We need to get out and vote and use this right that was fought so hard for by these very courageous women. Whether you vote democratic, republican or independent party - remember to vote.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Of all the stupid injuries I've had in my life time, last night's might be the stupidest of all. (Is stupidest a word?)

In 9th grade, I was playing tag football in P.E. and some BIG girl took it upon herself to tackle me and break my thumb. That same year, I split open my knee jumping hurdles. I guess that's not so stupid, but still. As an adult, I broke my ankle at my old job. That is not funny, but the way I did it was. I was standing on a table trying to hang all the legal crap posters in the office. More specifically, I was hanging a workman's comp poster while standing on a table. So as I was coming off of the table, my ankle just decided it wanted to play a trick on me, I fell and it broke. Pretty funny, right? Well two surgeries (one experimental) and 5 million hours of physical therapy later, I'm walking and all is good. For the most part. People laugh to this day when I they see the scars and ask about them.

Up until last night, that was my dumbest injury.

I am not a domestic goddess. I do the best that I can with my abilities, however, I'm no Martha Stewart or Betty Crocker and certainly no Rachel Ray. I decided I was going to make taco salad for dinner. Everything was going well. I didn't burn anything or anyone.

But I cut myself. How, do you ask? Was I chopping lettuce? No. Was I chopping tomatoes? No. There was no knife involved. A container of Daisy Sour Cream was the culprit. I attempted to take the plastic lid off and then remove the foil lining. As I was lifting the plastic lid, I felt a slice right into my stupid finger. And there was blood. Enough to bleed through a band aid. What the hell? Never in my life have I heard of anyone cutting their finger on a plastic container. Leave it up to me to be the first.

/frɛnd/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[frend] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation–noun1.a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.2.a person who gives assistance; patron; supporter: friends of the Boston Symphony.3.a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile: Who goes there? Friend or foe?4.a member of the same nation, party, etc.5.(initial capital letter) a member of the Religious Society of Friends; a Quaker. –verb (used with object)6.Rare. to befriend. —Idiom7.make friends with, to enter into friendly relations with; become a friend to.[Origin: bef. 900; ME friend, frend, OE fréond friend, lover, relative (c. OS friund, OHG friunt (G Freund), Goth frijōnds), orig. prp. of fréogan, c. Goth frijōn to love]

Monday, September 22, 2008

Word of advice for anyone looking for an apartment in Fremont, California; DO NOT MOVE HERE.

I am so pissed. Last week we got a notice posted on both doors at the front of our building saying that they would be repaving the drive way on September 22nd. Actually, more specifically, it reads as follows:

MONDAY SEPTEMBER 22, 2008 BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 8:00 - 6:00 PM

THE ASPHALT WILL BE REPAIRED AND REPLACED. RESIDENTS ARE REQUIRED TO MOVE THEIR CARS FROM ANY HIGHLIGHTED AREA BEFORE THIS TIME. ANY CARS STILL PLACED IN ANY UNCOVERED SPOT WILL BE TOWED AT THE OWNER OF THE VEHICLE'S EXPENSE.

Guess what happened!? They towed the Trans Am. I went to the office and saw a stack of Mapquested directions to the tow yard. I spoke with the manager and she said that everyone was notified of the parking situation. Then she pulls out another notice that was posted after the first one. Two days later to be precise.

NO PARKING!!!

We would like to first apologize for any inconvenience that this may cause you. On Monday, September 22, 2008 from 7:30 AM to 6:00 PM you will not be able to park your vehicle if you park in spot numbers 1 to 98, 1D to 26D, 538 to 551, 414 to 431, 55C to 68C, 273 to 373, and 1B to 40B. We will be repairing the asphalt on the community and we will be sealing and stripping on September 29th and 30th and October 2nd and 3rd. A second notice will follow for the dates and parking numbers that will be included in the 4 day seal and stripe.If you do not move your car by 7:30 AM you will be towed at your own expense. If you fail to remove your car you may call AA Wheat Tow at 510-972-1900 to make arrangements to pick up your vehicle. Please keep in mind that it will be a minimum charge of $295.00 that you will have to pay in-order to have your vehicle released.We cannot stress the importance of this to you and we will not reimburse anyone for not removing their vehicle. You may park on the street until the work is complete. We do not have any other parking area in which you may move your vehicle on the property.If you have any questions please feel free to call the office at 510-656-7552.Thank you in advance for your cooperation and understanding.

I did in fact get this notice. But to be completely honest, I didn't even realize it until after I talked to the manager. Why would a property management company take the time to go around the complex and post information, to only give new information 2 days later? As you can see, the second notice is quite different from the first notice. For the record, the Tans Am was park in a COVERED UN-HIGHLIGHTED SPACE. I feel they should have made more of an attempt to let residents know. As a result, we have to pay $380 to get the car out of the tow yard. And I'm sure that fee will continue to increase if we don't get it out tomorrow.

Moral of the story, this apartment complex BLOWS and I can't wait to get the f**k out of here. I wish we could do it right now.

In the beginning of my time, there was no internet. Hell, I don't even think there were home computers. But I remember being fascinated with computers come 2nd or 3rd grade and playing Oregon Trail on a black screen with everything in green on a floppy disc that was bigger than my hands. Now I simply cannot function without a computer. I am a MySpace addict. I need to check my email excessively, I'm working on my AA online, all my music is online, I need a computer to do my job...the list goes on and on. So this morning, my best friend informs me, and the rest of MySpace that she created a blog here and kinda sorta made me do it too. She didn't threaten my life or anything, but I always have to do what she does. So fine. Here's my blog Danielle. As for the rest of you who don't know me, let me give you some background. The first being (and probably most important in the blogosphere) is that I'm a good writer in the sense that I use proper grammar and punctuation. I don't however do well with paragraphs or any other type of formatting one might expect. So if you can get past that, we're all good. Back to me. I'm 30 friggin' years old. I'm still learning to deal with it as it's all new to me. About 23 days new to me to be exact. I have an 11 year old son. Still getting used to that too. Who tells kids to grow up so fast? I have a boyfriend James who I've been with for about 4 1/2 years, give or take a few months. We live in the SF Bay Area. I have lived what seems to be just about half of everywhere in the United States. Born in Portland, OR. Raised mostly in the Bay, although I've lived in Utah, Minnesota, Texas, Florida, Oregon...and I really feel like I'm missing something in between. I went to more schools than I can remember. My parents were kinda sorta hippy gypsy type people with some illegal activities involved. So yeah...definitely hippy gypsies. I lived with various family members growing up as a result of my parents lack of respect for responsibility. All of these things have made me into the person I am today. Not many people grew up the way I did and I honest to God don't think I'd change it if I could. I've learned what people are all about and how stuff works. I often find myself rambling in my mind and just thinking about one thing that leads me to the next and the next. Last week, I was out back of the warehouse where I work and saw a crane standing in the water/sewer run off that I hope doesn't lead into the Bay although I'm pretty sure it does. Anyway, this stork was just standing there in the water looking down. I'm guessing he was fishing. So there I was, on my cell phone talking about nothing in particular and wondering if this crane was fishing. Or maybe he was cooling off. Or playing. Who knows.But this got me to thinking. Do animals, fish, reptiles, blah blah blah do everything with a purpose? Think about it this way. We buy HD TVs, video game consoles, expensive computers, alcohol, cigarettes, hookahs, drugs, books...anything that is someone's vice. And aside from the entertainment factor, what is the point? That crane has it easy. All he does is look for food to eat, find a mate to reproduce, and sleep. He doesn't worry about getting the latest iPhone, the latest UFC pay per view, or car insurance. Life in it's simplest form. So that got me to thinking. Do you think that all animals are homeless? Or do they have a dedicated spot in the bush that is theirs and theirs alone. Do you think the crane (let's name him Joe) gets pissed if Sally Squirrel's kid, Albert* goes into Joe's little spot in the bush looking for food? Do you think Joe and Sally Squirrel worry about where their next meals are coming from? Or do you suppose that they are so confident in their survival skills that they don't even worry about that? And if Joe really was fishing in that run off...what about the fish? Do you think that the fish he could have caught has family like Finding Nemo? I wonder if it's like a horrible thing to happen to a fish family. Can you imagine your sister just being picked up and eaten right in front of you? Do you think that fish swim around the lakes, rivers, and oceans with or without a purpose? I think about shit like that. Do fish only stay in one part of the river because that's where their home is? Or do they just swim endlessly in search of food? And is it true that fish never sleep? If so, what a horrible existence. But if they do sleep, I'm pretty sure they don't lay down. Until next time....Oh, and * refers to Albert. The true story of a snotty nosed kid in Ohio. Read about him and Cliff here.